Interrogate Me, Please
by xxCerezasxx
Summary: Elliot has a fantasy. E/O Chapter 2, Olivia has a fantasy as well. Chapter 3, Cragen has a fantasy about two certain detectives.
1. Interrogate Me, Please

Interrogate Me, Please

**If I owned SVU, something like this would have happened already**

Interrogate Me, Please

Elliot Stabler loves to watch Olivia Benson interrogate suspects; it's easily his favorite part of the job. It's the thing his fantasies are made of, dreams that he can't get rid of, and that he wouldn't want to even if he could. Dreams that worry him, because when he has them, he always seems to be the perp.

The fantasy starts out the same, he's sitting at the table, staring at his reflection in the two way mirror. Then, _she_ comes in, the door shutting behind her with a soft click, paper file hitting the wood surface with a smack as she slams it down in front of him. They don't talk at first, she watches him, false sympathy in rich brown eyes as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Her voice is quiet when she does speak; she tells him to just give in, to make is easier, that she'll try to get him a deal, that she understands completely.

When he refuses, anger flickers through her face and she stands, palms flat on the table as she leans forward on her arms. Her smooth, olive hands inches away from his, he could touch them if he wanted to, and he always does. Her tone is harsher now, rich with authority that's intended to be intimidating, but really only succeeds in turning him on even more. His breathing speeds up, heart thudding in his chest almost painfully, so hard by now that he's willing to confess to anything if it'll get her to kiss him.

Finally, she gives up the good cop approach, voice dropping an octave as she comes up behind him and talks directly into his ear. She says she knows that he's guilty, that he did it, that he's such a bad man who deserves to be punished for it. Her breasts press against his back, whispering in that deadly seductive way, so close he can smell her perfume and sweet bubblegum flavored lip gloss.

When it's over, she stands him up, warm palms wrapping around his wrists, slapping cold steel against the heated skin. Her expression is the poster face for triumph, pink lips pressed together in a firm line, corners of her mouth turning up with a tiny smirk. He supposes it's supposed to be intimidating, but it's just so fucking hot he doesn't care. Her body against his, hot and soft, musical voice reciting his Miranda rights from memory, it's the stuff his every erotic fantasy is made of.

So he watches her, watches her with _them_, jealousy coursing through his veins because they're lucky enough to get her to play that game with. And when he can't take it anymore, he goes for it.

"Hey Liv, you mind doing something with me?" He asks her one day, beckoning her towards the interrogation room.

"What do you need?" Her smile is bright, perfectly gleaming teeth against perfectly formed lips that make him hate the ring on his left hand.

"We have a suspect coming down in an hour, would you mind practicing interrogating me?"

"Sure."

He grins at her; he isn't going to have to imagine anymore.


	2. Interrogate You, Please

Interrogate Me, Please

**Don't own SVU in anyway**

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Interrogate You, Please

Olivia has always had a little fantasy. But unlike the typical erotic dream, there's no bed, there's no roses or candles, there's no beach with soft white sand and a brilliant orange and pink sunset. No, there's none of that, just her and Elliot and the coldness of the empty interrogation room.

The little daydream starts out the same every time. She walks into the near empty room confidently, the two of the buttons of her blouse undone, revealing more olive skin than necessary. When she drops the case file on the wooden table, she leans forward, giving Elliot a view of her cleavage that is less than standard protocol. She likes the way his blue eyes gleam with lust at the sight, and she wants to hear him beg. She's seen Elliot angry and she's seen him concerned, she's seen him friendly and she's seen him cold and distant, but what she wants is to see him desperate. She wants to see him need something, and she wants that something to be her.

"It'll be easier for you if you just confess." She says, taking a seat from him across the table, folding her hands politely in front of her. She decides to play good cop first, because bad cop is so much more sexy. He doesn't answer her, and when she opens the file, she makes sure their fingers brush, she relishes when he shivers. "You're only making this harder than it needs to be." She whispers into his ear, flicking her tongue against his ear in a manner that can pass for accidental if she pretends it is.

He mutters something about being innocent, but his hands are trembling with the effort to remain firmly against the cool table top. She wants to hear him say her name now, because if he does, it means she's won. "We both know that's a lie, you really wanna be someone's prison bitch?" He's _her_ bitch; he just doesn't know it yet. She's going to break him and he's going to consent to her every demand and he's going to like it. He refuses to answer her again, so she slams her palm down against the table so hard it stings and the sound echoes loudly. "Maybe you want to be someone's bitch, is that it?" She leans up against his back so he can feel her breath on his neck and her breasts flat against his back. "Huh? Admit you wanna be someone's bitch, come on." She lowers her voice, feigns anger and corruption, the dirty cop she'll never be anywhere other then her harmless fantasies. "Admit it!" She says roughly, shoving lightly at his shoulders, not enough to hurt but enough to threaten.

"I wanna be someone's bitch." Elliot breathes, sweat on his forehead and want glistening on his skin.

"Whose bitch?" She smiles a smile of victory at him.

"Yours."

"I know." She leans in to kiss him but their mouths never meet, it's a shame the fantasy always ends so abruptly.

She might have to make fantasy reality one day.

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**So this was for all the people who begged me to write a sequel. Let me know what you think.**


	3. Interrogate Him, Please

Interrogate Me, Please

**I don't own SVU, Dick Wolf is a lucky, lucky man**

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Interrogate Him, Please

Donald Cragen has always found working with Elliot and Olivia increasingly difficult. The detectives are some of the people he spends the most time with. They're in his thoughts at work, tangled in along with the details of the latest case. Recently, however, they've begun to come home with him. Not physically of course, but in the form of disturbingly erotic dreams and not-quite pornographic fantasies.

He's watched hundreds of interrogations in his career, possibly thousands. But his favorites are when Elliot and Olivia are inside the small, cement room with the suspect. He likes to watch Olivia sweet talk the perp, lull him into a false sense of security while Elliot fumes quietly with jealousy across the room. He likes to watch Elliot frighten the criminal so badly that Olivia coaxes a confession out of the man with a sympathetic smile and an olive hand on his shoulder. He enjoys watching them work, but he wants nothing more in the world then to see Elliot on one side of the table, in the suspect's chair, his wrists bound by shiny metal cuffs.

His not-quite-guilty fantasy begins like any standard interrogation, so typical that the first time it occurred he thought he was awake and at work. What informs him he isn't conscious is when the perp lifts his head up off the table and he's Elliot. Olivia enters the room then, confidently, shoulder's back, her hair and make up done to perfection. Olivia says something quietly to Elliot, so softly that Don has to lean forward until his forehead is pressed against the cool glass of the two-way mirror. He swallows hard and strains to see through the white fog that hazes the mirror each time he exhales onto the glass.

Olivia slams the file in her hand on the table suddenly, the loud smacking sound echoes through the small, cold room. Elliot's eyes widen visibly for the briefest second and the tiny transfer of control from Elliot to Olivia is delightful. He wants to see one of his best, and occasionally in need of anger management detectives squirm, fidget and sweat at the wrath and charms and persuasion of the prettiest damn detective to ever grace the NYPD with her presence.

Benson leans forward until her palms are flat against the table top and says almost seductively, in a voice so sugary sweet he thinks it gives him diabetes, that everything would be "so much easier" if he just confesses right there. She attempts to bribe Elliot with a deal, a lesser sentence, but he isn't entirely sure of what words she uses because her ass is hugged tightly in her jeans and is pointed in his direction and it takes all his will power(because he's old enough to be her father) to keep his eyes fixed firmly on Elliot's face. He follows a bead of sweat from Elliot's temple to his neck with his gaze and knows Olivia's going to break the seemingly unbreakable man with nothing more then her womanly assets and her police skills. Olivia's sweetness dissipates rapidly and then she's in cop mode and she tells Elliot just how guilty he is and how she's going to enjoy watching him rot in jail. Elliot's breathing speeds up and Don is certain he's going to see what everyone knows Elliot and Olivia are dying to do.

"Confess you little bitch." Olivia slaps Elliot hard across the face in a fit of rage and that breaks whatever string of resistance Elliot has left.

"I did it, I did it." Elliot breathes, his blue eyes darting from Olivia's cleavage to her mouth.

"Good boy." Olivia grabs a fistful of Elliot's shirt and pulls him forwards until…..

Don thinks that maybe he's been working with the detectives for a bit too long.

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**Please review if you read. ;)**


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